Make someone feel special, and they’ll do, fucking, anything, for you.

Cheap lil stereo
expensive hotel room
Bowie blarin
hangin out with you

Those who laugh hardest
need it the most
Anna…

Why you so crazy?
You’ve lived a thousand lives
Why you live so hard?
Sometimes it’s nice having something else.

Something soft to hold
Someone sweet to hold you

I was floating in a conch shell on a sea beneath the late eve sky. Star dust patinaed the sky. Stretched along the conch’s bell, little fresh fields of verdant green, dusted with perfumed flowers, and I lay back and watched the shell’s curve frame the sky.

The ink on my back has become agitated. I have become one with the Dead. Do not raise me.

[scrawled on a napkin] I have only a moment for I have just now seen two large black beetles crawling on the dark scarred wood of the bar near my drink. I will not know if you receive this. You must not contact me. The ink on my back has become agitated. I have become one with the Dead. Do not raise me. They are quick, and I will know them.

Art is the physical convocation of universal, metaphysical truths, the invocation of infinity into the finite. The power of this conjuration lies not in the Master’s craft, but in the receptive sensibility of soft hearts. Great artists know when to resemble truth, and best, when mere suggestion will open doors to real truth in the minds of the audience.